Of Men and Monsters
by BlankDreamer123
Summary: Gaston, at his core, is many things. (Companion piece to 'Liar')


**_A/N: Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/etc. 'Liar.' Once again, 'Of Men and Monsters' is a companion piece to the aforementioned story, and, while not required, is recommended for other audiences. This fic in Gaston's POV was suggested by 3431jess, and TheTealsAddictive wanting more from Maurice (though his appearance here is still short), and for past me bugging present me about a forgotten scene I...well...forgot to include in the first fic. Once again, I apologize for the characters being OOC. BatB is not mine. It belongs to Disney and who ever wrote the original story._**

 ** _Now, enough of my ramblings. On with the story!_**

* * *

Gaston offers Belle an alternative.

He has her delicate arm in hand, face inches away from hers because he can't stop looking at her beautiful brown eyes. It reminds him of the sky when he goes out hunting.

He whispers, dangerously low, "I could save your father you know."

Gaston watches her eyes flutter shut. Then widen.

"One word from me and you precious papa won't be sent to the loony bin," Gaston smirks. Briefly he wonders if this was going too far. He shrugs the though off. He loves Belle; if he doesn't do this, then she'll never be his. "All you have to do is marry me and your father will be safe. I guarantee it."

The mob is quiet around them, their stares boring through Gaston's head (though he was used to it, and relished the attention). He sees Belle grasp a rather expensive looking hand mirror tighter. How did she ever get that? "My father is not crazy." Her eyes narrow at him.

A man steps forward, "Belle, your father said something about a beast. Is it true?"

She opens her mouth. But no words come out. Belle's gaze darts to the side, and Gaston is briefly distracted by the beauty of her pink lips. He would like to kiss it. However, he is drawn from his reverie by a familiar look in Belle's eyes. Her brows are furrowed together, eyes glinting with a thought. She was thinking. Inwardly, he shudders.

Such a dangerous pastime.

Belle shakes her head firmly, "No there is no beast."

Murmurs sweep throughout the crowd. Crazy old Maurice's eyes widen.

Gaston is many things, but at this moment, he feels like a right bastard.

Her eyes, a deep amber, look steadily into his. "I accept your offer," she said.

Gaston beamed. He turns to face Monsieur D'arque, his men, and the rest of the crowd, "Messieurs, I believe an understanding has been cleared up. Mlle. Belle has assured me that her father's anxiety has gotten the best of him, and mistook an abnormally large wolf in the forest for a beast."

"But what about the mademoiselle's disappearance?" One said.

Gaston chuckled, "apparently, she had gotten lost while searching for her wayward gather. A noble family had a summer home nearby and offered her food and shelter for a few days."

"It would explain the dress," a woman said, eyeing the expensive fabric.

(Gaston, years later, would still wonder about the dress' origins. By then, he'd have an inkling of to where it came from, but exactly _who_ gave it to Belle was still a mystery.)

Gaston is a convincing actor. Within moments, the crowd dispersed, and all was quiet again their sleepy little village. There was no reason to doubt after all. If Gaston says it is so, then it must be.

* * *

"You are a despicable man, Gaston," Maurice seethes. "You would stoop so low as to threaten a girl with her family just to win her hand in marriage?"

Gaston doesn't answer. He doesn't need to explain himself to a crazy old fool.

"I hope you rot in the darkest pit of hell you bastard!"

If hell is what awaits him in the afterlife, then Gaston will enjoy heaven while it lasts.

* * *

Gaston wonders as to why Belle avoids roses.

He had seen the flower arrangements to be used on the wedding, and though he has no interest whatsoever in plants, he expected roses to be part of the ceremony—or at least the bouquet.

Besides, Gaston likes roses. Mainly because they're red—and Gaston does love how dashing he looks in red—and because a thorn less rose in Belle's hands, or tucked behind her ear, was a vision he wanted to see. Red suited Belle as much as yellow and blue did.

So, without telling Belle, he orders roses to be added to the bride's bouquet.

When Belle sees the bouquet the day before the wedding, she yanks all the roses out and crushes the blood red petals in her hands, all the while mumbling things about curses and something being her fault. When she finished pulverizing the poor flowers into the dirt, she tried to hide her tears beneath the loose tendrils of her hair. Tried being the key word. Gaston still noticed. Though he chalked it up as Belle not liking roses.

Gaston says many things. But he never brings up roses again.

* * *

The wedding feast was nothing but perfection. The entire village came to celebrate his marriage to Belle, and Gaston wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Belle sat on Gaston's right in her wedding dress, even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. He started to point out LeFou trying and failing to juggle when he saw her eyes fixated on the candelabra in front of her. Like she was waiting for the thing to just...start moving.

It was unnerving.

* * *

Belle is a good little wife.

She cooks, she cleans, she takes care of Gaston (though she drew the line at massaging his feet). Gaston doesn't mind that Belle always reads. He uses it as an opportunity to tease her and start a conversation.

He doesn't miss the longing look Belle has in her eyes whenever she stares out the window.

Gaston feels like a monster for trapping her with him.

* * *

Gaston notices that Belle takes special care not to drop anything. Especially teacups.

* * *

There are times when Belle would just stare at objects in the house and start talking to them.

He once caught her talking to the mantle clock saying things like "how is he Cogsworth? I'm worried for him."

Gaston would like to think that she was referring to him. But, by the tone of her voice, that was wishful thinking. Perhaps it's her father—no... Somewhere deep inside, Gaston knows she wasn't talking about old Maurice either.

An animalistic growl erupted from his throat, startling Belle out of her one-way conversation.

* * *

Belle starts to tell stories.

She tells her first story to Jean the potter. She tells him of a man, lost in search of his wife and son, who were trapped in an enchanted castle. She does all this with a hopeful look in her eyes, and her fingers idly rubbing the edges of the teacup.

Jean just smiles, and thanks her for her story.

"What a lovely tale. If only I was as fortunate enough as that man who has such a loving family," he said.

Belle's face is crestfallen when she gets home.

Gaston always knows what to do, but this time, he's at a loss.

* * *

When Belle is pregnant with their first child, they have an argument over names.

Gaston, so sure that it was a son, wanted to name him Jacque: a name that speaks masculinity. Belle wanted to give their son some silly name. _What was it again?_ Gaston wracked his head for answers. Ah, yes..

Chip.

What kind of name was that?

When Belle refuses to agree with Gaston on a name, he only stills, and whispers, "it would be a shame if Maurice never got to see his grandchildren."

It made Belle quiet. It made Gaston feel both powerful and pitiful at the same time.

 _Though,_ Gaston thought. It wasn't all bad. _She got to name their second child._

Rose.

(Strange. Gaston though Belle hated roses.)

* * *

Gaston sometimes listens in on Belle's stories. Always from behind a door, or a wall. He knows that the moment he steps into the room, Belle's mouth would shut.

* * *

It was a summer day when Jacque tells his father about a girl.

"I-I don't know if it's love or not," Jacque says. "What did you feel when you fell in love with maman?"

Gaston hums, and sets down the musket he'd been cleaning moments ago. "It's hard to explain..." His brows scrunch together, "when I saw your mother for the first time, it was like being hit with the butt of a musket straight to your chest. My heart clenched, and my stomach churned—but it wasn't bad. No, far from that."

Gaston rests his chin in his hand, "then there's this sudden realization and everything just stops. It's just me and your mother and the whole village is just gone. I look at her, so beautiful with her nose still stuck in those stupid books, and I just thought _that's the one, Gaston! That's the woman you're going to marry!'_ "

When Jacque asked how he proposed to Belle, Gaston tells him. Of course, he leaves out any mention of the deal made long ago.

Gaston is many things. A liar is one of them.

Belle dies from an illness at the age of thirty-six. She leaves him too soon.

 _Beloved daughter, wife, and mother._

She's not buried in the local cemetery.

Her last request was to be taken to a castle in the woods, where the gardens would serve as her final resting place.

Jacque and Rose think it was crazy. There are no castles in the wolf-infested forest.

Gaston, however, tells them to go. He doesn't tell them that there is a castle hidden in the forest. That he's been there, once, a long time ago. When he was curious of Maurice's story and followed directions that lead him to a decaying castle filled with dusty halls, and a unique collection of antiques.

He doesn't tell them of the ghosts that haunt the place, or the shadow that resides there.

The days before his children would travel to fulfill their mother's last request, was the day Gaston went out hunting.

He wanted—no— _needed_ to hunt. It was something he does to relax. It was an activity that occupies the mind and the heart. It was an activity that needed no emotions. And Gaston didn't _need_ emotions right now.

All he wanted was a musket in hand, the forest surrounding him, and no one around to bother him.

He hunted every single wolf in that forest.

When the last wolf was shot dead on the forest floor, Gaston took a moment to just stand still...and _breath_.

Gaston may have done many things to Belle, but he well and truly did love her.

And now she was gone.

 _Belle was gone_.

* * *

When his children left for the castle in the woods, Gaston sat atop the hill his wife used to visit and did an activity he swore he would never do too much of.

Gaston thought. Deeply.

He thought of many things. Mostly of his family, his wife...Belle.

He wonders of 'what could have been,' and thinks about the 'what-ifs.' Mostly, he regrets. And he regrets. And he regrets.

Gaston is many things. Perfect, he was not.

* * *

Gaston, at his core, is many things.

To his children and the townsfolk, he is a loving father, the perfect husband, a handsome man, strong, helpful, and an excellent hunter.

To his wife, he is a monster—albeit the feeling has dimmed down over the years. He is the one that threatened her and her father, denied her dreams of travelling the world, and kept her from seeing the one she gave her heart and soul to.

To some, a man. To others (the very few others) a beast.

Man.

Beast.

Man.

Beast.

Man.

Beast.

In the end, who could tell.

After all, the line between the two is very thin indeed.


End file.
